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Citizens of Lost Worlds, I and II
Crew Quarters LMS Artemis ---- ::The narrow passage opens up into a small wardroom. The space is ingeniously outfitted, the furniture and surfaces configured to serve either under nominal local gravity conditions, or that provided by the freighter's own acceleration. Furthermore the room is done in a light-grained wood panelling with brass accents and fittings. Flanking the wardroom are a set of personal sleeping niches, with each empty bunk module containing a bed with built in cabinetry and storage lockers. One of these sleeping compartments has been emptied of its normal furnishings and not sports a nautilus-style exercise machine bolted sturdily to the floor and ceiling in a gravity-from-ventral style. Forward, a fresher unit is located portside, while to the starboard is a complicated wall of intricate machinery and electronics that makes up the ship's kitchenette (+kitchen). The room is softly illuminated, gentle light flowating down from coves recessed into the dorsal and side wall framing. The deckplates have a brass sheen to them and are sturdy and and diamond gridded, providing a bright if utilitarian finish to the space. ::The quarters are recently and thoroughly cleaned, with most of the bunks made up with almost military precision. Tirax's trunk and personal effects are tucked in place by the bunk he's claimed. On the small table is a violet-hued Timonese flower in full bloom, its blossoms similar to a lily's. In the kitchen, a glass-covered tray holds a selection of meats and cheeses - it's assemble-your-own-sandwich day for food, it seems. ---- "It isn't a problem," Jest says and then smiles wryly, "I'll always make time for handsome men." She starts for the galley, "Did you care for something to drink while you explained what's on your mind?" Thayndor Zahir laughs softly. "You're a very gracious host, Captain," he says, following a few steps behind Jest towards the galley. "Thank you for the offer, but no; I do not think I will take much of your time." The Zahir clasps his hands behind his back. "Lord Norran told me that the man Hess is a member of your house," says Thayndor. "I came to apologize in person for disturbing your affairs. Lord Norran told me he explained to you that I was thoroughly provoked." Jaswinder makes his way into the quarters, stretching...eyeing the guest curiously. "Evening," he offers lightly. Jest turns to face Thayndor, leaning against the counter top. She studies the man. "It is a difficult situation, Thayndor." She glances to Jaswinder and smiles greeting before looking back to the man, "Hess was a friend to me some time ago. We've had a falling out. I still try to honor the friendship and he does not. I gave him a berth here and a ride over. I won't deny that if he were to be... permantly injured... I'd be upset." She smiles and winces, "But the man provokes constantly. And I find that there is little I can do about it." She pauses, "Defend yourself and your people, Thayndor. I won't hold it against you. I will try to speak with him about better manners. Who knows? He might even listen." "Good evening," Thayndor replies to Jaswinder, looking from him to Jest. As if taking his cues from the woman, the Zahir smiles, showing neat rows of white teeth, and gives a courtly bow. "You are a lady, Captain," says Thayndor. "But you talk of defense, and this is another thing I had hoped to talk about." He folds his hands before himself at his waist. "Lord Norran and I, another man, Lord Duhnen Seamel, and a woman, Lady Voreyn Zahir, comprise the ranking members of nobility that have come here from Fastheld. Norran is senior among us. He has advised us to assimilate ourselves among the other refugees, to be useful as we can be on the crews. I have found a place with the Raider." He separates his hands and paces to one side a step, watching Jest sidelong. "But I wonder how far we, the refugees, should 'assimilate' in this new place." Jaswinder tilts his head, noting the bow with a small smile, essaying one in return. "That depends, my lord, on what true benefit you find in *not* assimilating, I believe," he notes, his tone a cultured clarity. "Alone, without aid from other humans or other species, you must trade away all your metals and gems for food and shelter and hope that whatever brought you here, someday brings you back. If you are certain that this will happen, it may be a worthy gamble - but how certain are you?" Jest's brows raise, "And it depends on what you mean by assimilating, of course." She says simply, "There is a difference between knowing the world around you and losing yourself to it. A difference between making alliances and settling for what is handed to you." She gestures, "I recommend making those alliances with the ships. Your alternative is to stay beholden to this station, darling. At least with the ships you have a chance to explore and potentially carve out places for you and yours." Thayndor Zahir blinks at Jaswinder, as if surprised at his comment. "I apologize for being unclear. When I speak of the refugees' plight, I mean we, the refugees, collectively. The citizens of worlds lost. We no longer have nations to our names; only allegiances, as your Captain, my well-dressed friend, so aptly points out." He returns his attention to Jest. "I hope you see us for what we are, Captain Jest -- we of Fastheld, I mean. Our technology is primitive, but in many ways we are at least your equals. You will forgive me I hope if I say that you will not find better statesmen among the ranks of Fastheld. And where affairs of state are concerned, I will get to the point: The ships themselves, the Captains, must reach an agreement among themselves. A pact." Jaswinder lipquirks. "Intriguing. I believe I suggested that idea to your Lady Voreyn, just yesterday," he says. "But - let's see if I understand you better this time. Are you perhaps suggesting that your statesmen might represent the collective will of the captains and your own people to the other groups on this station? Or what service, as statesmen, might you be offering?" Jest laughs softly, "Thayndor. Primitive doesn't mean stupid. Anyone who makes that mistake deserves to suffer the consequences of their ignorence. And technology is not the measure of a group of people." She gestures, "And I believe I see you all rightly. I see strong people who have faced the loss of many things, but still have not lost their pride, their honor or their willingness to move forward. You are men and women, and impressive ones indeed." She winks at him and then tilts her head, "Is that what you are hinting at? What Jaswinder suggests?" Thayndor Zahir ignores Jaswinder now, focusing on Jest. He inclines his head. "Your flattery, my lady, will get you everywhere," he drawls, then meets her eyes with his own, levelly. "Do you agree, in principle, that you are responsible for the care and safety of the crew and passengers of the Artemis, and all Captains are in principle responsible for same for the occupants of their ships?" he asks. "By extension, then, could you agree to resolve matters of justice and dispute between occupants of the Artemis, and occupants of the Raider, through arbitration with yourself and the Raider's captain, Vadim Tostanavich?" Thayndor continues pacing, and gestures with one hand, turning it palm-up. "Similarly, could you agree to selecting, with the Raider's captain, policies for dealing with people and forces beyond your two ships, and agents to enforce them? Could you agree in principal to ensuring your mutual defense against threats, both within and without your vessels?" He stops, turning to face Jest with his hands clasped at his waist. "And, finally, would you be willing to extend this agreement on adjudication and, shall we say, foreign policy, to include in your deliberations the Captain of any other ship willing to make the same agreement on behalf of his or her passengers and crew?" Jaswinder smiles wryly. "I realize, my lord, that you are dealing with my Captain as you would likely prefer to deal with people of rank broadly equivalent to your own in your own world," he says. "But if you are attempting to impress with your diplomatic skills, your cultural awareness requires improvement. I am the first officer of this vessel, and it is therefore unnecessarily rude of you to hold discussion in my presence as if I were a footservant. Being strictly observant, in fact, unless Captain Vadim has granted you *equivalent* rank aboard the Raider, I merit not only courtesy, but a 'sir'." He smiles briefly. "As you wish to serve in the function of a diplomat, it's a useful thing to know." Jest smiles slowly and straightens up. "I don't think he meant to ignore you, Jaswinder. I think our guest is just very task orientated." She walks over to Thayndor, languid and easy, closing the distance until she's looking up at him. "I'll tell you what, darling. How about we get all of that written up, mm? You see, you were talking but..." Gray eyes focus on his mouth before rising to his eyes again, "...and I just got /all/ sorts of distracted by that silver and oh so formal tongue of yours." She bites her bottom lip in strained innocence. Then she breaks then breaks, sensual smile becoming a smirk as she falls back a step, "My ship is sovereign. I will not agree verbally to anything that looks like fetters without examining it a great deal more than I can just in conversation, handsome." She gives him a chiding look. "Really now." "There's no need for hostility, Bosun, although I appreciate your willingness to teach," Thayndor replies smoothly. "Where I am from, only footservants are left unannounced when they enter the room. Tolerant masters allow some servants to interject when they have something useful to say." His tone grows absent as Jest starts using her eyes to play with him, though his body language betrays no difference in opinion as she tests his closeness. "You are a lady deserving of her sovereignty," Thayndor says. "And I am not asking you to agree to something now. I'm asking if you /could/. And I apologize for talking myself in circles." He smiles and inclines his head. "I solicit your patience once again, and I will try to speak more plainly. Say I present to you, on behalf of my captain, a document that says you and he agree to negotiate on a solution to any conflicts between people who live on your ship and people who live on his; to extend some degree of effort, to be ironed out at a later date, for your mutual defense; and to bargain collectively with outside forces on matters that would be of consequence to those on both vessels." Thayndor gestures, palms up, hands outstretched. "Would I have a chance of you signing that document? I will tell you, I am hoping that all or a majority of captains will agree, at the very least, to speak directly to one another about making such an agreement. It worries me, the thought that these ships might be separated, attacked separately, and our races -- I presume we are the last of our races -- will wither and die." Jaswinder blinks. "Nautical. Of course. Then 'First mate," if you please." The tone is not threatened, nor threatening, nor indeed emotional at all. Simply stating facts. "Bosun was a fair try, however." He slants a glance at Jest, the faint smile turning wry. "Drinks, captain?" "There is a chance," Jest agrees, wide eyed and flutter-brained. Then that smile again. "Though, let me elaborate? The first? Yes. The second? Very likely. The third? Possibly. The devil will be in the details for those lasts, dear. You have a chance I'll agree, though." She looks to Jaswinder, "Brandy for me, I think. Our guest said earlier he didn't want any." She glances back to Thayndor, "Have you changed your mind, perhaps?" Thayndor Zahir shakes his head. "Thank you, but no," says Thayndor. "I sprung myself upon you, as it were, and shan't tax your splendid hospitality any longer." To Jaswinder, he nods. "First mate, then, although the honor of knowing your name would be appreciated. I am Lord Thayndor Zahir." Looking aside at Jest, he adds, "and I will approach you again with a time to meet and a document to consider, hopefully, and with luck before too long." Jaswinder nods. "Ah, I was forgetting. My apolgies. It's not often we have visitors that have polysyllabic vocabularies, I was distracted." He bows slightly. "Jaswinder Audra, first mate of the Artemis. And your title aboard the Raider, if I may ask?" Jest chuckles quietly, "Oh, no. This has been very amusing and rather enlightening too. It's like... watching an artist try to paint and having fun trying to make faces at him from behind his subject." She strides back to the galley. "I look forward to the next meeting. Do give my regards to Vadim?" "I will, Captain. I'm glad I could entertain you, at the least, and I hope you approve of what I am trying to do even if you noticed the clumsiness with which I'm doing it. Statecraft I'm used to; state-building, as it were -- especially here -- is entirely another matter. And to your question," Thayndor says, turning to Jaswinder, "We haven't settled upon a title for me as pertains to the Raider, but I am authorized to speak on the captain's behalf." Jaswinder grins. "I look forward to hearing from him how that came about, at our next meeting," he says. "In the meantime, Lin's smile on your endeavors." "Not at all clumsy," Jest smiles, looking over her shoulder at him. "And I think you are doing a damn fine job. I'm just a snob, a tease, and an imp. But I'm friendly and amiable and I rather like you and your people. Poor you." She pauses and smiles slyly, "Would you like me to walk you to the door, Thayndor?" "Vadim appointed me Raider's spokesman-designate because I am better at words than he is," Thayndor says with a smirk. "And your own Captain would fare quite well, I think, in the land of court intrigue and magic from whence I came. I would be flattered, Captain Jest, if you would do me the honor." Jaswinder smile pleasantly, inclining his head. "Indeed she is, and I am honored with her faith. Good night, Thayndor Zahir." "I'll be back shortly, darling," Jest says to Jaswinder. Then she's making her way forward, steps jaunty. She stops, though, after a few seconds and looks pointedly to Thayndor's arm and then up to his face. Expectantly. Thayndor Zahir appears pleasantly surprised, extending his arm with a flourish and leaning forward very slightly to do so. He makes a sweeping gesture towards the door with his other arm. "If you would be so kind." Jaswinder nods. "Brandy on your return, captain," he says, and turns for the galley. "Thank you, Jaswinder," Jest carols. She takes Thayndor's arm and heads fore. Airlock - LMS Artemis ---- ::An amber warning light washes the simple airlock, chasing dull shadows across the gray hullsteel walls. The airlock is sized for approximately five crew, with ample space for their gear and equipment. Sturdy access panels and equpment lockers frame the room, providing a sparse atmosphere of simple utility. Along one wall there is a rack for five EVA suits, along with ports for keeping the suit systems charged and online. Forward a sturdy hatchway leads into the freighter's command section while a second identical hatchway leads aft.. ---- "I hope you won't mind my saying so, captain," Thayndor says, thumbing the bottom of his lapel with his free hand. Heproceeds to say it anyway, "but you seem to have a quite poetic choice of retainers. It is as if you are the rose, and they are the thorns." Jest laughs softly, "Who else is going to protect me from saavy rogues such as yourself?" She asks simply. She moves to type in the hatch code. "My poor little innocent heart would be prey to just anyone." She gives Thayndor a sideways smile. "Have a good night, Thayndor? You certainly deserve it." "Something tells me you'd do all right," Thayndor replies, releasing Jest's arm. He walks to the other side of the airlock inner door, turns, and bows low. "Jest, thank you for the audience. I hope to speak to you again soon, and that you also have a pleasant evening." "And don't you forget it, darling," Jest says softly, eyes glinting. "Not for a moment." A gentle smile, "Good night, Thayndor." "Light keep," Thayndor says, turns, and is gone. Some time later ... Crew Lounge - Zero Gravitas ---- ::Describing the lounge as cozy would be generous--at eight and a half meters by six, it's fairly cramped. In the center of the room, eight chairs have beem stuffed around a table slightly too small for them. Food preparation equipment is placed up against the starboard wall, covered by locking panels. Two old couches sit side by side along the port wall. Hatches lead forward and aft to the forward corridor and the ladderwell. ---- Kestrel is still sitting on the couch where we left her last, sprawled out across it in a fairly careless manner. She stifles a yawn and looks around. "...Not even a holoviewer. 'Kari's sword," she mutters, shaking her head. The other couch is currently occupied by... well, in short, a large black metal cat. Bri makes her way back into the lounge, "Kes, it's Norran's relative from the bar," she says as she leads the noble in. She returns to her spot, sitting on top of Epsilon, one hand rubbing at the giant kitty's ears, "Please, have a seat Mr....?" seems she either can't remember or didn't get his name yet. "Lord Thayndor Zahir, thank you" says the noble. "Thayndor will suffice. Thank you for agreeing to see me." He bows lightly at the waist. "Kes, it is good to see you again as well." The cat gets a brief look of curiosity curbed. "Bri, you are the captain of this fine ship?" He tucks the tails of his coat out from behind him with practiced hands as he sits, with straight and formal posture, on a chair across from Bri. Kestrel scrambles to sit up as Bri says company's on board, composing herself quickly enough, in any case. "An' you, Thayndor," she offers, nodding. She tilts her head and looks over his garb, letting a low whistle escape between her teeth. "Nice threads. Ya git 'em from 'at Odarite?" "If by 'Captain', you mean the one that makes decissions around here, then aye, I'm the captain, and these are my people," Bri replies, her eyes staying on Thaynder as he takes a seat. "This is Kestrel," she adds indicating the Later with one hand, "And Epsilon," she gives the Phyrrian a pet to emphasize this. "I am Ariel-002 Epsilon, a construct of Shadow-Magic ensorcelled into existence by the blood-soaked hands of a hundred demon warriors," offers the Phyrrian by way of introduction, its scarlet opticals tracking the Zahir unerringly from its spot on the couch. "Salutations, Lord Thayndor." Thayndor Zahir smiles, showing his teeth, and says: "We've met." He shifts a bit forward in his seat. "I noticed that Comorro's security has taken an interest in us refugees -- I mean us collectively, all of us citizens of lost worlds. We exist outside the system of law and order here, and we don't have anyone to protect us save ourselves, so I suppose your nod to anarchy, not taking a formal title, is appropriate." The Zahir regards the Phyrrian with amusement. "I have fought enough Shadow constructs in my time, but I have not met one with mastery of sarcasm. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Epsilon." "...Damn, 'e told you," Kes offers to the War-Tasker, along with a chuckle. She nods at Thayndor, then. "We're weird ta 'em as 'ey are ta us. 'Ey dunno what ta 'spect from us, I 'spect. 'Parently 'ere's been a few fights an' such, an' 'at prob'ly don' look so good on us." Bri smiles at Thayndor's words, "Aye, the important people know who I am, so I find a title is not needed." She looks over to Kestrel, nodding agreement and then back to the noble, "Is this what you've come to speak about so urgently, or did you have something else you wished to discuss?" the little Sivadian asks. "I am partly responsible for one of them, and I have taken steps to make amends," Thayndor agrees with a nod. "Bri, Kes, you have reached the heart of the matter: If we do not present ourselves as having a problem that others may or may not help us solve, and as having means of our own to at the very least defend ourselves, then we, ourselves, will be viewed as the problem. And what is left of our races will die -- because, correct me if I am wrong, as I would very much like to be wrong," he rests one forearm against his thigh and gestures with the other, "But from what I have heard, you have no chance of returning to your worlds, and our chances are not much better." is a pose in which Epsilon suggests rubbing its belly, or facing likely obliteration - interrupts itself -- and suggests rubbing its belly to elicit lifelike purring. Kestrel blinks at Epsilon, and stifles a giggle. When she's done with that, she nods at Thayndor. "Yeah, uh. I kinda started one m'self, cause I tried ta kick someone what shoved me." She rubs at the back of her neck a touch uncomfortably. "See... hrm." She trails off, nodding. "You do gotta point. An' yeah... word has it gettin' home ain't happenin' anytime soon, if it ever does." A scowl at that. Bri hops down off Epsy that the tasker might roll over better, a small snicker leaving her. She stays near though, "It's usually better to do what he asks, Thayndor," she adds with a nod. She pauses for a moment, seeming to mull over the nobles words, "What is it exactly that your getting at?" she asks finally. "Trying to get all of us to work together with you?" Thayndor Zahir smiles, catlike, at Epsilon, as Bri talks about the Phyrrian. "That's funny," says Thayndor. "People usually say the same thing about me." After a moment's thought, the Zahir rises with a chuckle and stoops over Epsilon to comply, as if curious as to the outcome. "I'm not necessarily trying to get all of you to work together with /me/," says Thayndor, "but I think it is imperative for all of us that the Captains work together." He pats Epsilon's belly and straightens, turning to face Bri again. "I am here to ask if you would consider a document that I am preparing," he says. "For the captains who sign it, the document would codify accepting responsibility for their crew and passengers; agreeing to act as the negotiators for their members and crew when there are disputes between people of different ships; commiting to some measure of effort for mutual self-defense, the exact details of which will be ironed out later; and to bargain collectively with entities outside our band of refugees in some instances when there would be consequences for all of us citizens of lost worlds." Thayndor's brow furrows. "It is not exactly law. But it is a pact that, I think, would increase our odds of survival. I am confident that at least two other captains will also come to the table to negotiate over and sign such a document. I hope that you will agree at least to negotiate over it as well." "...Huh. Know we's havin' a crew meetin' t'morra," Kes offers, shrugging. "Could bring it up with Mister Finch 'en. See..." She chuckles. "Bri's our boss, but 'is ain't our ship. S'Mister Finch's ship, an' 'e lets us stay on board." She nods then, and shrugs at Bri. "S'up ta you, really, kid. Yer th'boss, y'know th'rest'a us'll folla." The Later bites her lip and blushes a bit. "Reckon I oughta mebbie 'pologize ta 'at engineer kid, too. Y'know, fer kickin' 'im in 'is soft bits." As promised, the petting wins Thayndor an increibly lifelike response - which is due to the fact that Epsilon is merely playing back a recording of some happy and possibly quite tragically dead kitten over its external speakers. "That is satisfactory," it states neutrally, easing back into its prior position with snout resting atop forepaws. "I would be interested to follow Lord Thayndor's plan to its conclusion. It merits consideration and discussion." Bri's hands are clasped behind her back, her eyes watching Thayndor curiously, "'To be ironed out later' is not a very promising phrase, Mr. Thayndor. Some of that is what I do already though. You may speak to captains Cathal and Jest, I think they will tell you that I've been quite diplomatic with them." she casts a glance Epsy's way, then back to the Zahir, "I will come to hear what has to be said, but I don't guarantee anything beyond that. The 'details' will need to be discussed before I commint to anything." Thayndor Zahir nods. "Of course," Thayndor says. "That's the way statecraft is -- one begins with an agreement in principle, such as what I have outlined: responsibility, adjudication, mutual defense, collective bargaining, as ideas that are not on their face repulsive. Over time, it is my hope that you and the other captains will come to agree on iron-clad particulars in each area -- and I certainly hope that you will not commit to anything that hasn't been negotiated into terms that are agreeable to everyone, as specific as possible, and given in writing." Thayndor holds both hands out, palms up. "All I ask is that I might count you among the captains who have said they will come to the table for more formal discussions. Nothing more." "May I bring a friend?" Epsilon pipes up, canting its head with an air of curiosity, despite its facial expression's remaining unchanged. "It is not a captain, but a construct such as myself controlled by a highly sophisticated AI. It is, however, connected to a starship crew: the IND Iuppiter Lucetius." Kestrel blinks. "Yer pretty smart 'ere," she observes. A shrug at Bri then. "Eh, if'n was up ta me, kid, I'd say go fer it. Can't hurt nothin', kin always back out later if'n ya gotta, 'r if it goes a way what don' work fer us." She grins. "'Sides, I find 'at thing fer Mister Finch, we'll be able ta go places." Bri nods to Kes, then looks back to Epsy, "Friend?" she asks curiously but her attention goes to Thayndor then, "I'll come negotiate," she agrees. With Epsy back in his spot she hops back up on the couch and reclaims her place atop the tasker. The Zahir makes his goodbyes and departs. ---- Return to Season 1 (2009) Category:Logs